Return
by splashdown
Summary: Angry over the death of Dumbledore, Harry secludes himself outside and meets unexpected people in his dream.


This was inspired by OK Go's song entitled "Return." The first italicized section is a quote from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince._  
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**Return**_  
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_Harry wiped his grazed forearm upon the stone: Having received its tribute of blood, the archway reopened instantly. They crossed the outer cave, and Harry helped Dumbledore back into the icy seawater that filled the crevice in the cliff.  
_

_"It's going to be all right, sir," Harry said over and over again, more worried by Dumbledore's silence than he had been by his weakened voice. "We're nearly there. . . . I can Apparate us both back. . . . Don't worry. . . ."  
_

_"I am not worried, Harry," said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. "I am with you."_

- - - - - - - - -

That moment played over and over in his head. His brain felt like one of those Muggle cinema projectors; it kept spinning and spinning, and no matter how hard he wanted it to slow down, stop, erase - it wouldn't. Harry wanted to scream, to stir away this dreadful silence that enveloped him, that enveloped them all ever since Fawkes had stopped singing.

He knew he shouldn't be out after hours, but what did it all matter now? Dumbledore was gone, _Dumbledore was dead_. Dumbledore was killed right on those very grounds, right on the very heart of Hogwarts. There was nowhere safe anymore, so what did it matter if he left the common room?

Harry made his way through the castle unnoticed, and he was grateful. He didn't want to open his mouth anymore, for fear he'd shout or yell or worse. He moved quickly and quietly through the front doors, and once he was outside, the air hit him like a wave. With his head tilted toward the sky, he hurried down the grass toward the lake, to his favorite spot under the very same tree where his father used to sit when he attended Hogwarts.

He wished his father was there, right then. He had heard so much about James, how they were so very much alike. Harry's heart ached at the thought of him, at the thought of them all. Everyone who had died before him, _for_ him: James, Lily, Sirius, and now Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who was supposed to save them all, to watch over them and protect them and be their Saving Grace from the powers of evil.

Dumbledore, who fell from the tower like a broken doll.

Harry threw his body to the ground with such a force that he thought he felt the earth vibrate underneath him. He put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes under the starry sky, too angry at the world for being so beautiful on such a horrible, life-altering night. Soon, his body began to feel heavy and the evening breeze made his breathing slow. And then there was nothing but darkness. . . .

_Harry was walking along a path, a long dirt road in the middle of fields full of tall grass, waving every which way in the sunny, summer's day. He lifted his hand to his face and sheltered his eyes from the glaring sun as he looked at his surroundings. He was confused as to where he was, but his legs wouldn't stop moving so he continued on._

_The path soon came to a small wood, densely packed with towering trees, bright green leaves pouring from the branches. Harry continued to walk, and as he got further into the woods, the path got narrower and narrower. Just as the dirt path became almost invisible, his legs stopped. He looked around and noted that he was standing just before a clearing in what must've been, he concluded, the very heart of the woods. He was unsure what to do; there was no one and nothing standing in front of him, but his legs would not move. Harry scratched his head, took off his glasses, and wiped them on his shirt. As he replaced them, he nearly stumbled over at the sight in front of him._

_For walking toward him was Professor Dumbledore, looking more alive than Harry had ever remembered. Dumbledore's beard was shiny and silver, as always, and he was wearing the most outrageous set of robes Harry had seen. They were long and flowing, set in a bright blue, even more bright than blazing than the perfect sky above. But there was something different about him, something curious about the way his face lit up. Gone were the wrinkles of exhaustion and worry. Gone were the tired, old eyes, worn out from fighting and searching. His eyes still twinkled, but they were alight with something fierce, something Harry couldn't quite recognize._

_Dumbledore stopped straight ahead of Harry and beamed down at him, as though he had not seen him for ages. They were silent as they took one another in, and then Dumbledore spoke._

_"Good afternoon, Harry," he said, his voice full of that quiet wisdom Harry was so accustomed to._

_"Good afternoon, sir," Harry replied, not quite certain what else he should be saying._

_Dumbledore smiled. "I assume you are wondering what you are doing here. Am I correct in that assumption, Harry?"_

_Harry nodded eagerly. He was always amazed at how Professor Dumbledore knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling at all times. It was almost as though it was Dumbledore who was in control of Harry, instead of Harry himself._

_"Well, come. Come," Dumbledore repeated, waving his previously injured hand at Harry, who noticed it was no longer blackened and dead-looking._

_"Sir, your hand," Harry said, surprised, as he followed Dumbledore. "It's--"_

_"Healed?" Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Yes, it is. And for that, I am truly grateful. A hand is not a hand unless it can be used properly. This one works fine; therefore, I am quite pleased." He continued to lead Harry farther into the clearing to a set of furniture that Harry was sure hadn't been there moments before. "Sit, Harry. Sit."_

_Harry sat. He sat and he folded his arms and unfolded his arms. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. He scratched his head and wrinkled his nose and cleared his throat and looked around. His eyes finally settled on Dumbledore._

_"I wanted to apologize, Harry," Dumbledore started. "You were very brave last night, and you deserved more from me. If I could tell you everything, from beginning to end, I would, but alas, I cannot. My trust is buried very deep, and the whereabouts are unknown to all but one. In due time, my boy, you will understand."_

_"Then why am I here, if you can't tell me anything?" Harry demanded quietly, his eyes lowered, fists curled on his lap. His fingernails were cutting into his palms, but he could barely feel it._

_"Because, Harry, I wanted you to know that this is not your fault, that you do not have to carry this burden all by yourself. You are a strong young man, but one man alone is not going to save the world. Do not close yourself off to everyone you love, not again, not when it took you so long to come out of that shell. I daresay I am flattering myself too much, and if that is the case, forget my words, but I do recall a young boy, who had just lost his Godfather, shutting out the rest of the world. Do not let that get in your way, Harry. The Dark Lord feeds on hate, on anger. Do not give him more access to what is privy to you, in your heart." Dumbledore took a breath, and for a moment, the sadness was visible in his eyes, but when he blinked, it was gone. "I am very sorry that things have ended up like this. Your life was never meant to be this way, Harry. You were supposed to grow up. You were supposed to grow old, to grow strong and be happy. You were supposed to be cherished by all, especially your parents. You were supposed to have your parents, to be raised by them and loved by them in all ways possible. I am sorry, dear boy, that your life has not been the easiest, but I have watched you overcome many obstacles before, and I will continue to watch you overcome many obstacles to come."_

_Harry lifted his head and met Dumbledore's gaze. He felt his eyes sting with tears and fought hard to keep them contained, to keep them restrained. Harry cleared his throat once more and said, "But, sir, how will I. . . . Do you think I. . . . Can I do this?"_

_Dumbledore smiled as he leaned to pat Harry's leg in comfort. "You, Harry, are capable of anything. Of everything. You, Harry, have the strength of a lifetime behind you. You, Harry, are loved." And with that, Dumbledore stood, and with his right hand, guided Harry's attention to the clearing on the opposite side, where three shadows were moving into view._

_Harry stood, almost involuntarily, as the three figures, no longer shadows, came closer. He tried to move his legs, tried to go to them, but he was rooted to the spot. His breath caught in his throat as his gaze moved from one face to the next, his entire body shaking. Finally, one of them stepped forward, clapping a hand on Harry's back._

_"Alright there, Harry?" His godfather beamed down at him. His hair, no longer shaggy and unkempt, looked clean and proper. His body had filled out more, even more than from Grimmauld Place. His eyes shone as he looked at his godson._

_Before Harry could reply, Sirius had swept him up into a hug, and Harry squeezed shut his eyes, once again feeling the sting of tears as he urged them not to fall. After a few moments, Sirius let him go and grinned as he turned to face his other two companions._

_And for the first time, Harry stood facing his two real reasons for being alive right then, his two real reasons for being anything. He took a deep breath as he watched his mother come closer and touch his face. With his face between her hands, she cried, "My son. Harry, my son." Harry tried not to blink, not caring as the tears flowed freely from his eyes, desperate not to miss a moment of what was happening in front of him. Before he knew it, he was folded in her arms, his mother's weeping the only sound in his ears._

_For so long he had wanted this moment. For so long he had dreamed about his parents, about standing before them, about talking to them, touching them, seeing them with his own two eyes. His mother's eyes. He had his mother's eyes._

_Soon she pulled back, took his face between her hands again, and kissed his forehead. His scar tingled and he knew instantly that it would not hurt him ever again, for this moment would reign supreme in his mind over all others. Lily smiled down at him and stepped back, revealing the third member of the group._

_His father. The man Harry had thought of more than anyone in the past year._

_His father was standing before him._

_His father, whom he looked so much alike._

_His father, who was standing right in front of him._

_His father._

_Harry did not have to say anything as James strode forward, threw his arms around him, and pressed his son into his chest. They looked a funny sight, their glasses strewn about on their faces; their wild, uncontrollable hair flapping in the wind; their similar stances crooked and unbalanced as father met son._

_When James pulled away, he ruffled the hair on Harry's head and beamed down at him, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses. "Brilliant Seeker, you are," his father said, smirking._

_Harry had never felt more overwhelemed, more overcome with love than he did right then. He smiled unabashedly up at James and replied, "Thanks, I learned everything I know from my dad."_

_"I'm proud of you, Harry. We all are," James answered. "You are a Potter right down to your very soul."_

_Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius cut in. "We can't stay, mate," he said. "We were only given a short amount of time. Time is almost up."_

_Harry looked from Lily to James and back again. He looked at Sirius. He looked at Dumbledore. His heart felt full, almost enough to burst. He still couldn't believe he was standing there in front of them all. It was then that Harry realized they were starting to fade._

_Dumbledore said quickly, "Remember what I said, Harry. You are not alone."_

_"We are with you, Harry," Lily added._

_Sirius beamed at him as James stepped forward and grabbed Harry's hand. He was fading rapidly, too fast for Harry to understand. He wanted them to stay forever. He never wanted to leave this place, this clearing. He felt safe and secure and protected. He felt free, unbounded by a world that haunted him everyday, with horrors lurking in every corner._

_James placed a small object in Harry's hand and swiftly closed his fingers. James clutched Harry's closed hand and quietly said, "This is for you. I am so proud to be your father, Harry. Your mother and I, we. . . . We love you more than anything. Go save the world. We are right behind you."_

_Sirius shouted, from what seemed miles away, "Take care of Moony, won't you, Harry?"_

_And with that, Harry was left alone in the clearing, alone in the woods, alone in the world._

The sun was barely above the horizon when Harry woke. He sat up, drenched in sweat, and looked around. He briefly wondered where he was, but the all-too-familiar sights and sounds brought him back to Hogwarts, near the lake, in his favorite spot. He gazed at the rising sun, the colors painting a vivid picture across the sky.

Was that only a dream? But it felt so _real_. He didn't understand. He didn't understand at all.

It was then he felt something in his hand. Curiously, he lifted his hand and opened his fist. Inside was a Golden Snitch, its wings flapping furiously against his palm. Harry peered closely at the snitch and let it go. He quickly reached his hand out and caught it. Again. And again. And again.

_Just like Dad,_ he thought to himself with a surge of love and pride, of hope.

He smiled to himself as he stood up, wiped off the back of his trousers, and headed up the sloping lawn toward the castle doors. Just as the front doors closed behind him, the sun blazed higher in the sky, the heavens brighter than even the brightest blue.

It was a new day.


End file.
